The Alpha and The Omega
A reading from the Revelation to John, 21:5-7:
And the one who was seated on the throne said, "See! I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." He said to me: "It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. Those who endure will inherit these things, and I will be their God, and they will be my children.”
“I am the Alpha and the Omega; the beginning and the end.” You may have noticed that we have both a baptism and a requiem in the same service today. Does that seem odd? Nicholas has just been baptized into the life of Christ and this congregation, and we’re now about to hear Lauridsen’s “Lux Aeterna” which is based on the Requiem, or Mass for the Dead.
Both move from darkness into light. Both are about renewal, restoration, and transformation. Both are about the passing away of the old and newness of life in Christ. Both are rooted in hope and faith. Both contain elements of the other. In the origins of baptism in the early church, being fully submerged naked in water symbolized the death of the old, so that the one baptized could be robed with newness of life in Christ. Funerals and requiems have always been more about the hope for newness of life and transformation than about death as we understand it: life eternal, lux aeterna, risen with Christ into newness of life.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega; the beginning and the end.” “These words are trustworthy and true." Here’s an interesting experiment. Let me read to you bits of scripture and liturgy that are used in baptisms and funerals, all mixed together. See whether you can tell which are which.
Eternal God, our beginning and our end… O God, whose beloved Son took little children into his arms and blessed them… He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior… Having been buried with him in baptism and raised with him through your faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead…
You get the idea. So, could you tell? You might be very surprised to learn that some bits you were absolutely certain were from one liturgy were actually from the other. Let’s pay closer attention to our reading from Revelation: “And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See! I am making everything new!’”
And here’s my favorite part. These last two lines describe baptism then requiem to a T: “To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. Those who endure will inherit these things, and I will be their God, and they will be my children.” The central point here is transformation. Baptisms and funerals/requiems are Christian observances of the transformation God promises. They’re rooted in the deep Christian hope that what at first looks like death holds the promise of transformation into newness of life.
As Christians, we boldly proclaim that our entire lives, end to end, are saturated with the light of Christ. This is a deeply mystical thing, one that requires abandoning all our attempts at trying to figure it out in order to enter into the mystery of newness of life, the mystery of transformation by the light of Christ.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega; the beginning and the end.” “These words are trustworthy and true." In Lauridsen’s “Lux Aeterna” that we’re about to hear, the theme of light is presented over and over, like a steady drumbeat: eternal light, light of the Spirit, light out of darkness, lux aeterna. All these references to light are inescapably about Jesus, the light of God, the light of life, the light of the world.
Proclaiming transformation at our earthly death is not to suggest that we deny the human experience of grief, but that we proclaim that death doesn’t have the last word. We proclaim in requiem that grief is infused with hope and the promise of newness of life. We don’t usually depict the belief of that combination, though some cultures do. In the New Orleans area where I grew up, it’s not uncommon to see somber funeral processions erupt suddenly into raucous, joyous parades; think “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
Like the requiems of Duruflé , Fauré, and Howells , Lauridsen’s was composed for a specific person whose death affected him deeply. Is there anyone in your heart this morning who has passed away, recently or ages ago? As you listen, I encourage you to hold together in your heart Nicholas’ baptism that you just participated in or your own, and the passing away of someone you’ve deeply loved. Hold in your heart the yearning and promise of transformation.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega; the beginning and the end.” This is the light of Christ. Thanks be to God.